The Prophet (Ryan Archer #2) (2 page)

“How did you know where I was staying?” she asked.

“It was a miracle,” he said. “We can talk about that later. Just try to understand that this was meant to be. Even before the creation of the world, you and I were predestined to meet on this day.”

“What is predestined?”

His eyes were on the road, a hand on the wheel. His face looked serene.

“That’s something you will learn about. It’s an amazing part of spirituality.”

“Do you believe in God?” she asked.

“Of course I do.”

“Is it hard sometimes?”

“For me, it only gets easier. Day after day after day.”

“That must be a nice feeling.”

“Indeed. You can feel that way too, and you will.”

The Mercedes turned into a paved drive and slowed to let an iron gate open. Then they pulled through and followed a long, winding driveway through trees and a sprawling lawn. The city disappeared from view. Soon, a building that looked like a castle appeared at the top of the hill, surrounded by lush, manicured landscaping.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “Where are we?”

“This is the church.”

“You work at a church?”

“Yes.”

They parked and Alexander held her door open for her. He held her hand as they followed the sidewalk to the arched entryway. There was a digital touch pad beside the door. Alexander entered the code and led her inside.

“It’s beautiful,” she said again.

He led her down a long hallway with vaulted ceilings. She looked tiny in the huge space.

“This is a place of peace and love,” he told her.

“I’ve been to lots of churches,” she said.

“This is not a place of religion. Some might call us a church, yet many more would not. To my mind we are something far more special. We have been truly touched by the hand of God.”

The floor was made of inlaid marble. Their footsteps echoed up the walls to the ceiling. Enormous paintings and sculptures lined the hallway. The air smelled of something she couldn’t readily identify, but the aroma was intoxicating.
 

“Do you feel safe here with me?” he asked.

She nodded her head and he smiled.

“There is someone I want you to meet,” he said.

They followed a second hallway and stepped into a room with a huge domed ceiling made of glass. The moon and stars were visible high above in the heavens. The floor was covered with a massive rug depicting scenes of ancient violent rituals. Wild orgies and debauchery involving sex and wine. The slaughter and sacrifice of cattle, horned beasts, and humans on altars made of stone. The imagery was mesmerizing. Moonlight spilled down onto the rug and seemed to almost make the imagery on the rug come to life.

In the center of the rug stood a very tall man. He was perhaps the tallest person Tatum had ever seen. Alexander closed the solarium door and again held her hand.

“This is Silas,” he told her.

The man reached out his hand to her. His eyes looked soft and warm.

“Tatum, I am so very glad you are here,” Silas said.

Tatum reached out her tiny hand and it disappeared into his. She had never felt such warm skin. It was like falling into a warm bath.

“I’m very happy to be here,” she said.

“Do you know where you are at?” Silas asked.

“Not really.”

Silas smiled. “That is fine. There is no hurry. You will learn at your own pace. What is important to know is that we have expected you. We understand your pain. You have endured a terrible affliction for far too long, but those days soon will pass. I can promise you this.” His smiled widened until his entire face brightened like the noonday sun. Staring into his eyes was hypnotic.
 

“I’m so tired of living this way,” she whispered.

“Yes, child, I know. The days of your suffering are numbered. I give you my word.”

“How … how can you be sure?” she asked, a tear forming in the corner of one eye.

“It is no accident that you are here, child,” Silas said. “The Lord has been expecting you at this door since before He laid the foundations of the earth.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“There is no need to understand. Set your mind at ease. You are home now.”

Silas stepped away and turned his gaze upward toward the glass dome, his face bathed in moonlight. “Alexander will show you to your room.”

Tatum appeared confused. “Alexander didn’t mention sleeping here,” she said. “I should probably call someone so no one worries.”

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. Alexander was standing behind her.

“Don’t concern yourself. It’s all been taken care of,” he said. Again, there was something about him that made her weak in the knees, something stirred her deep inside and made her long to be much older than fifteen.

“I don’t have any clothes,” she said.

“All your needs will be met,” Alexander assured her.

Then he turned to face her, and he touched his lips to hers. Suddenly she was dizzy and her body swayed. She collapsed into his arms and he carried her down a corridor and placed her in a huge bed, locking the door on his way out. It was the first time she had slept at night since she was a little girl. She slept dreamlessly and would not wake again for several days.

THREE

Ryan Archer had been awake since 4:00 AM. He’d not slept more than five hours since he was a small boy. He had never felt much need for sleep. Four hours a night was more than enough to recharge his battery. So he had risen long before sunrise and gone for a run through the Hollywood Hills while the world was cool and quiet. Then he had spent an hour in meditation on the deck at the back of the house overlooking the city of Los Angeles.

He made breakfast in the small kitchen, assembling an egg white omelet and pouring orange juice into a plastic cup. Then he sat cross-legged on the deck and ate slowly, watching the sunrise, the heat of the day burning the early morning haze off the horizon. He showered, and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

The woman was still asleep when he came out of the bathroom, toweling off his hair. She was a yoga instructor he had met a few months ago. Archer liked her. She had lots of energy and was very intellectual. Her first name was Diane but he called her Smith. He preferred calling women by their last names. Smith liked to sleep more than Archer did. She stuck with her nine hours quite religiously.
 

“I couldn’t live on five,” she had said a few hundred times.

“I could live on four,” he always replied. It was true.

Archer had known from the moment he woke up that it would be a busy day. No reason to make plans. It was just something in his gut. There was a job on the horizon. Webb would expect him to be available, day or night. Archer made an extra effort to keep his cell phone within reach.

He started his Land Cruiser and backed out of Smith’s short driveway. The knobby tires threw gravel as he punched the accelerated and launched up the street. The twenty-four-hour gym where he worked out looked like a ghost town at dawn. He did fifteen minutes of cardio on a treadmill before hitting the weights and attacking the heavy bag. He put in ninety minutes, then jumped back in the Land Cruiser and drove down a mile south for coffee. Jason Eckhart was already at the table.

Archer gave him a fist bump as he scraped a chair out from the table and sat down.

“Are you still shacking up with the yoga guru?” Eckhart asked.

Archer nodded. “Best sex I’ve had since Maya left.”

“That’s no mystery. She has the best ass in California.”

Archer shrugged. “When did you get back from New York?”

“Yesterday.”

“I was surprised to get your text.”

“Came back sooner than planned. Cut the trip short by at least a week.”

“Is business slow?”

Eckhart shook his head. “Actually, business is great. I’d be happy to send a lot more work your way if you’re interested. I just can only handle NYC in small doses. I’m a west coast boy.”

“Understood.”

“What about you? How’s business? Is Webb treating you okay?”

“The work is steady enough for me. Webb is fine.”

Tom Webb was an old friend from Archer’s days in the military who ran a private security firm. Archer worked out of the firm as an independent contractor. The pay was good and Archer could cherry-pick his jobs. He felt content for the first time in a long time. Jason Eckhart did private investigation work for several law firms in LA. He spent half his time flying around the country, snooping on cheating husbands on vacation with their mistresses. He truly did have more work than he could handle. Archer wasn’t interested in taking pictures of middle-age men in the sack with twenty-year-olds.

“Is Webb still married?”

Archer nodded. “As of yesterday,” he said.

“That’s what, twenty years now?”

“High school sweethearts.”

“Same woman every night. I can’t even imagine.”

“Karla is pretty amazing.”

“I guess.”

“Did you get the files I sent you?” Archer asked.

“Oh yeah.” Eckhart leaned over and lifted a red duffel from the floor at his feet. He unzipped it and handed Archer a manila envelope. Archer pushed it aside and focused on his coffee.

“Feel free to count it,” Eckhart said.

“No need.”

The envelope contained ten thousand dollars cash. Payment for some work he’d done on the side while Eckhart was out of town and needed some freelance help. Archer had named his price and Eckhart never blinked. They went back far enough for Archer to trust he wasn’t going to be cheated, and Eckhart was wise enough to know that crossing Archer would only serve to get his ass kicked.

“You were a lifesaver, man.”

“I earned every penny,” Archer lied. It was the easiest ten grand he’d ever made in his life.

Eckhart was average height and slim, but all muscle. He had gray bags under his eyes and a ruddy complexion. He wasn’t exactly handsome, but women still loved him. He had on running pants and Nikes with a blue Polo. The watch on his wrist was a Rolex Submariner. Archer trusted very few people in the world, but Eckhart was one of them. Tom Webb was another.
 

Archer’s spider senses tingled again, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before Webb dialed his number. He placed his cell on top of the manila envelope.

The ceiling fan overhead made a shadow on the table that moved slowly in a clockwise pattern. Archer sipped his coffee and tried not to get hypnotized by the movement of the shadows from the blades.

“Did you hear about Jimmy Cloud’s girl?” Eckhart asked. “The people behind me on my flight back wouldn’t shut up about it, and it’s all over CNN and everything else.”

“Jimmy who?” The name meant nothing to Archer.

“Jimmy Cloud.”

Archer shrugged, stared at the clouds in his coffee.

“Are you shitting me?”

“Never heard of him. A friend of yours?”

Eckhart looked at him like earthworms were coming out of his nose.

“He’s only the biggest movie star in the
world!
”

Archer set his coffee down and glanced out the window at nothing. “Good for him,” he said. “What about his girl?”

“Yeah, his daughter. She’s missing. It’s a big deal.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Turn on a TV some time.”

Archer’s cell phone rang. He saw Webb’s number and answered it.

“Archer,” he said.

“We’ve landed a big fish,” Webb told him. “I need you at the office in half an hour.”

“Who is the client?” Archer asked.

“He’s an actor. I know you ignore everything Hollywood related, but I’ll bet even you have heard of this guy. His name is Jimmy Cloud.”

Archer pursed his lips and glanced at Eckhart. “Actually, I have,” he said.

FOUR

Archer folded himself into Tom Webb’s black Toyota Prius for the drive to Malibu. Webb hated the car but wouldn’t admit it. He drove it under orders from his wife whose mission it was to single-handedly save the planet. She recycled and maintained a compost pile, and boycotted stores that stocked their shelves from non-local suppliers. But Webb needed the Prius to look like it was his idea in order to retain at least a minimal hold on his manhood.

“I’m embarrassed for you,” Archer said. “They build these things for women.”

“It’s an amazing piece of technology,” Webb replied without conviction.

“Uh huh.”

“How is Smith?”

“Very flexible.”

“Must be nice to be you.”

“Sometimes yes, sometimes no.”

Archer scanned through Webb’s radio pre-sets.

“Easy listening? Country? Please don’t blame this shit on your wife.”

“What’s wrong with country music?”

Archer found a classic rock station and turned up the volume.

“If I hear “Free Bird” one more time, I’m going to slit my wrists,” Webb said.

Webb wore a dark blue suit with a silk tie. He was clean shaven and wore expensive sunglasses. He was five-nine and fit. There was gel in his hair and it curled at the back where he had grown it out. He still had a Brooklyn accent even though his family had left New York while he was in grade school.
 

Webb had programmed the Malibu address into his iPhone and the voice announced when they had arrived.

“In one hundred feet the destination is on your right,” the woman’s voice declared.

“She sounds hot,” Archer said.

“Don’t touch my phone, pervert.”

The destination was a sprawling beachfront Malibu estate. A tall hedge blocked any view from the road of anything beyond the iron gate. Webb steered the Prius onto the shoulder and turned into the drive. There was nothing outside the gated property that would have cued someone to the fact that the biggest movie star in the world lived inside.

Webb pushed a bottom on the intercom and the gates swung open. They followed a winding drive and parked next to a fountain featuring a trio of nude female statues, all with generous breasts. They parked and both men stepped out of the car and took a moment to enjoy the view.

Webb stared at the statues. “Yowza,” he said.

“Must suck to be rich,” Archer commented.